SuperWhoLock: Saints in Stone
by StarkyGirl
Summary: SuperWhoLock The Angels are turning to stone, Castiel turns to Dean and Sam Winchester for help. Sherlock spots something unusual on a news cast concerning a case he and John are on and the Doctor is waiting for an adventure. There is one thing bringing these six men together and making the most unusual group of unusual detectives of our time. I don't own any of these characters!
1. Holmes

Holmes

The news had been tantalising for the best part of the week, even right now it had become a comfort to read in the days where it had been busy. Sitting down in a room of silence, a cup of perfectly brewed cup of tea in hand and the newspaper opened to the main article of today, John Watson felt a smile creep onto his lips.

With Sherlock god knows where, Mrs Hudson in her own apartment most likely bumbling about without much sound, Watson was learning to take these precious calm moments as a treasured thing. In fact right now, sitting in his usual armchair Watson was grinning like a fool at the latest article written purely about the blog that had blown up over the internet as of late. His.

It seemed that it was becoming a bigger hit every day the more people read it. With Sherlock back, alive and well and not a soul had mentioned his dive from St. Bart's hospital roof, people were relishing in the new stories as of late. It seemed the world had craved the stories about the genius that worked as the only consulting detective in the world.

As Watson sat there, lips pressed to his cup while he sipped on his tea peacefully and eyes on the paper, it seemed someone was ready to shatter that. A set of thumping footsteps echoed out on the stairs in the hallway. Ah, right on cue Watson supposed. He threw the newspaper down on the side table and sighed as he readied himself for another one of those episodes from his best friend.

The front door swung open and in stepped a mud and blood soaked Sherlock Holmes, a World War One rifle in hand and a set of broken glasses hanging from his face and his ever so curly hair… still curly. "John!" Sherlock glared down at the ex army doctor while he in return glanced up at him and sighed, "What the hell happened?!" His eyes trailed over the mess that the genius had bought in with him.

Sherlock glanced behind him at the trail of dry mud and then back at John, "No one would let me in their taxi. I had to walk John!" As if walking was the hardest thing to do right now. John rolled his eyes and looked him up and down, "Well I am not surprised no one would let you in the taxi. You're covered in grime and you have a bloody gun in your hand!" Oh it was that 'harpooning the pig' experiment all over again.

Sherlock threw him a look of disgust and anger at John before chucking the gun to one side against the wall. He trudged past John before stopping in the doorway to the kitchen, "I'm going for a shower…" John simply shrugged as he picked the newspaper up, maybe he would get his peaceful half hour of reading after all.

Of course, with no answer the detective swayed off to the bathroom in order to scrub away the grime from the experiment he had carried out only a few hours ago. It seemed he was correct to think that his latest victim was brutally murdered with the use of an old baronet gun right in the heart of a re-enactment. Well, he says brutally but it was a simple accident.

The moment Sherlock was out of the room, the soft sound of shower water running, John stole the moment to finally pick up the newspaper and return to the article at hand. He really did love how The Times portrayed his work, the rather insightful thoughts they had on Sherlock now that he was back, then again he didn't like the nastier comments, he hated those. At least now he had his friend back he supposed.

Something on the edge of the article caught his eye, a face of a young girl no older than eighteen stood out against the greyish background of the paper. He furrowed his brow and pulled it closer to his face so he could read the mini article.

_**Fifth girl to go missing on the Triton Estate. **_

_In the space of two weeks it seems that young and old have started to disappear on the formerly rich estate. Since Nobleman, Stanely Triton passed away a month ago, it seems people who have gone searching for the money he left behind or keepers of the grounds have gone missing. _

_Danni Welsh, 19, went missing after going in search for her brother, Stefan Welsh, 30. Stefan was a well respected keeper of the grounds but disappeared not long after Triton passed away at the age of 94. _

John frowned, for a moment it seemed that the estate was just a dangerous place and no doubt a random killer lived there, or that it allowed people to go missing on their own watch because they wanted to. Either way, they had not been called in because the police made no connection between the victims.

A sudden clattering echoed out from the bathroom forcing Watson to glance over his shoulder in the direction of the noise. Now what?! Sherlock stumbled out into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist and black hair dripping wet with a few bubbles still left in. "John! John, the news!" He skidded into the lounge and pointed at the TV, apparently he was enjoying listening to the shower radio since John had bought one mainly for himself while he soaked in his evening baths.

John swept the remote up into his hand and switched on the news, it seemed the missing person's case had now become big news. The face of the regular BBC reporter filled the screen, the stunning house sat behind him as he spoke about the victims. "Here, in the gardens of the Triton Estate, it seems the police are still looking for signs of how or even why the five people went missing here on these grounds."

Sherlock sat himself on the sofa, fingers steepled under his chin as he watched closely while water dripped from his hair and bare body. So it was apparent he had been following this story for sometime now. His eyes narrowed on the screen, searching the surroundings around the reporter until something caught his eye. "John, pause it!" He pointed at the screen, trying to get his friend to pause the news (something he was grateful to have on Sky TV).

John paused the News the moment Sherlock began to freak out over whatever he had seen behind the reporter. "There!" Sherlock rammed his finger to the screen as he scuttled over and pointed to a strange figure that seemingly blended into the background. In all honesty John was shocked that even Sherlock had spotted it because it seemed to effortlessly merge in.


	2. Winchester

Winchester

The fork jabbed at the pastry that had flaked off the apple pie that sat on the white plate before him. It wasn't normal for Dean Winchester to pass off a pie because he loved it, 'Love myself some pie' he would often say but today he didn't feel like pie.

Sam Winchester watched him from across the table, a brow raised as he watched the fork poke constantly at the food. "Dude, you gonna eat that?" Dean glanced up at his brother and huffed as he placed the fork down and sat back, "No… taste like crap anyway."

Sam chuckled awkwardly and shrugged off Dean's unusual behaviour before turning the laptop round for Dean to see. "So get this, there have been more reports on the alien side of things which is weird because we established there are no such things as aliens right?"

Dean pouted his usual manly pout before rubbing his cheek as he thought on things. Sam watched him, seeing that he really was not paying attention to what he had to say, "Are you even listening?" Sam furrowed his puppy dog face even more than he was to start with. "Dude, I seriously don't care! No one has been hurt or threatened and it's probably just a hoax…" He gestured to one article based on the usual tale of the human looking alien. "… bowties? Fezzes… come on man. It's a hoax." Dean simply shrugged before grabbing his beer bottle and taking a swig.

Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance as he took the laptop back and began to work on it once more, looking for a job. "What?" Dean asked as he eyed his brother who seemed to be rather agitated now. "Shut up and eat your pie," Sam replied, eyes still glued to the screen before him. Dean grabbed his fork and forcefully poked it into the pie before taking a rather aggressive bite from it to wind Sam up even more.

"Lighten up Sammy," Dean smirked with a mouthful of pie leaving Sam to hide behind the screen of his laptop with gritted teeth. However, before Dean could add more banter to the already tense situation, the flutter of wings interrupted their own company within the motel room.

The brothers glanced up, jumping slightly from the sudden appearance from their friendly neighbourhood angel, Castiel. The trench coat, suit wearing angel stood menacingly in the door with the usual blank stare on his face. "Oh look! My wing man decided to join us, finally." Dean proffed a hand towards Castiel with biggest grin on his face.

Castiel was clearly not amused by Dean's action or words as he came marching into the room towards the brothers. "I'm not here to be your wing man Dean, I've come with grave news." The brothers both stared at Castiel for a moment with a serious look on their faces. Dean leaned on one elbow, a finger pointing toward the angel, "And you're telling us why?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the elder Winchester brother as did, he was an idiot, "You are… hunters, are you not?" Sam shrugged at Dean, as if saying 'Well he has a point.' Dean pulled a face at his brother before turning back to Castiel's matter at hand. "Wanna tell us what it is first before you go dragging us into some more crazy crap. Seriously, I want a break from it." It seemed that the most recent case he had been on involved far too many demon's and a bag of crazy on top.

Castiel took a breath, rising above Dean's ridiculousness before going on with what he had to say. "There have been a few odd energy signatures popping up in Great Britain…" Before he could even explain what was causing them, Dean once again interrupted him. "In the UK, so what? Not in America so not our problem," He shrugged before turning back to his beer and pie.

Sam scowled at Dean and kicked him under the table which forced Dean to yelp and rub his shin. "What sort of energy signatures?" Sam asked, readying himself to start typing away to research the latest case that they were, apparently, going to take on. "I am not sure but it seems to grow after a person goes missing. The strange thing is that there have also been reports of stone angels being the cause." This stopped both brothers in their tracks. More angels, stone ones at that? "Are you saying your statue bros are involved? Huh, the English get even crazier with every passing day!" Dean laughed at his own joke as Sam rolled his eyes once more at his brother's stupid out burst.

Castiel pressed his tie down against his chest, smoothing it out a tad as he replied with a soft growl tone in his voice, "That's the thing, they are alive but yet when I checked them out, they never moved. I watched for four days and nothing." The brother's raised their brows at Castiel then turned to each other. Dean lightly ran his hand over his face while Sam shook his head in shock a little. "I guess… we're going to the UK to sort out an..." Dean had no idea what to call it, "…an angel problem?"

That wasn't going to be the weirdest thing he had ever said when it came down to this case in the slightest.


	3. Doctor

Doctor

Countless times he had given the flight panel a good old hard kick but it seemed the console was not going to give him peace of mind, instead rather, it gave him a sore toe with a few curse words mumbled under his breath. After rubbing his boot clad toe, he scooted around the panel and sighed softly as he placed himself down on the plush white chair.

The Doctor was having the case of Pond blues, he was missing his close friends but promised them time in a normal life, he wasn't going to let them miss out on the family they had. This left him to do as he pleased, seek out any adventure he wanted even if it meant River.

However today was a day that he would encounter a hateful enemy and quite honestly he was ready for it. He finally got up and head towards the scanner to see what had been causing the missing people cases he had heard of. It piqued at his interest countless times, assumed it was nothing but then again, it was in London and so if he needed Amy and Rory then they could simply travel down right?

He flicked through TV reports until he found a report on the case he was studying.

"Danni Welsh was last seen here after she told her mother she was going to the Estate in order to find her brother. It seems long running grounds keeper, Stefan Welsh, disappeared after his regular routine of checking and keeping the grounds clean. Nineteen year old Danni was left heartbroken and hurt after the disappearance of her elder brother. This drove her to go in search for him after no leads came through of his whereabouts."

The Doctor frowned a little, his eyes on the background for a few moments as the reported spoke. "Other than Danni and Stefan Welsh, the other victims seem to have no connection with the siblings but seem to have disappeared in the same way." The Doctor turned the screen off, he didn't want to hear anymore because for some reason it angered him.

However, as he turned the screen off, something had caught his eye, something in the background that seemed to stay incredibly still but blend in to the trees and plants of the garden behind the reporter. The Doctor instantly turned it back on and paused the news before zooming into the area he was looking at. That was when it shocked him into mere silence bar two words, "Weeping angels…"

The air seemed cold suddenly as he took a gulp and shut down the scanner before stepping back from it. He bumped into the railing behind him, hands gripping the bar so tightly to steady himself that they burnt a bright white in moments. He hated these… things, these monsters, in fact on the odd occasion it put fear in him.

He rushed around to the panel and began hitting buttons left, right and centre. As much as he didn't want to go near this case, he decided it would keep him occupied after all.

So here it was, the Doctor was whizzing through time and space towards London 2013, and not a second thought about it as he did his usual dance around the TARDIS console. He stopped every now and then to adjust his never straight bow tie, glancing in the small mirror that was attached to the console as well on the odd occasion.

So, five men were heading to the same place and five men were about to face up to one of the most deadly assassins in existence.


	4. Holmes- Paranoid

Holmes- Paranoid 

The collar of the coat flicked up against his cheek as he stepped out into the crisp air of Tuesday. Watson followed out behind him, closing the door to the ever famous 221B Baker Street. "Why are you suspicious of a bloody stone statue?" John questioned Sherlock as he hailed down a taxi. Sherlock glanced at him, that ever present frown on his face as he stood there, "Wasn't it obvious John?"

"No Sherlock, for once it actually wasn't obvious," John rolled his eyes as a black taxi pulled in along curb side, letting them get in.

Sherlock's slender form clambered into the back of the vehicle, Watson soon followed behind him, "So you didn't see it move, twice?"  
>"Twice?!" John exclaimed, the matter was an absurd one, no doubt about it but surely Sherlock was losing his mind if he really thought that statue had moved. "You do know those things are made of stone, right?"<p>

Sherlock glanced at him before leaning forward to talk to the driver, "Triton Estate please!" He tapped the back of the seat, letting the driver know they could be on their way.

Sherlock sat back and glanced at an ever so annoyed Watson, "Of course I know John! Why do you think it suddenly ensnared my interest?" John blinked at him before shaking his head a little, yes that jump from St. Bart's hospital roof really did knock him for six and ruined his head. "But a statue, how does a statue move?!" John was rather frustrated with Sherlock now, more than normal.

Sherlock smirked a fraction as he relished silently in the torment that John was suffering in. There were days where he'd rather not breathe a word of what he thought, he wanted it all to be laid out on the table in one go. John crossed his arms as he sat there, not once did he look at Sherlock as the taxi bumbled along the busy London streets.

About ten minutes into their journey, John finally cracked and spoke, "Ok, come on then what did you see? It's not going to be another Hounds of Baskerville issue is it? I don't really want to suffer another of your mini rants." Sherlock smirked, glancing at John then his watch. Well he had time to kill, might as well do something about it and tell him what he could possibly know.

On the other hand he didn't want to admit that his eyes were playing tricks on him, possibly something he had not expected to see, but then again his cases were getting stranger over time. "Well yes and no. My eyes deceive me but there must be a perfectly logical explanation behind all of this. Until I get a closer look though, I cannot make any reasonable deductions to produce to you at this point in time."  
>The smirk stayed on his lips as John sat there staring at him in silence.<p>

"You have not a clue do you?" John smirked, because if the answer was yes and no, or the fact the man needed a closer look, this told him in an instant that Sherlock, in fact, had no idea to what he had seen on the screen back at the flat. Sherlock's smirk was wiped clean off his face, "Shut up John." Thus John began to laugh to himself at this one small fact.

However, Sherlock had constantly been thinking about what he had seen on that screen and in all honesty he still had nothing to say. He could swear than in a few moments the stone statue had moved forward towards the screen by at least a few meters.


	5. Winchester- Packing

Winchester- Packing

Silver stakes, silver bullets, holy water, salt…  
>The whole lot was being placed into Sam and Dean's duffle bag. Any weapon they had was being shoved in there, along with guns. The usual drill was being carried out between brothers while Castiel stood at the window, typically staring off into nothing and deep in thought.<p>

Dean was taking everything, mainly because he had no idea what they were up against this time. Castiel had mentioned angels and yet there seemed to be no certainty they were his brothers. There was also the suggestion of them being made of stone which had quite frankly bugged Dean. How the hell were they to stop a monster made of stone other than with a hammer?

Sam would occasionally glance over at his brother, seeing him mumble to himself or shake a stake at the bag. It drew a laugh and a shake of his head from him but Sam kind of understood what Dean must have been feeling. Previously Castiel had suggested that the only way to get to England in the shortest time possible was by the magic of an angel. Dean hated that. End of.

"You almost ready?" Sam questioned his brother as Dean sighed and placed his last few things in the bag. "Ready as I'll ever be…" He shrugged before grasping up his gun to give it a quick wipe.

Dean was finally finishing off cleaning his gun; his father's gun had been the perfect weapon for most his life. The Colt 1911 A1 was a thing of beauty on many levels, mainly because it had the sophisticated design embossed in Ivory on the handle, the silver glint that Dean shined to perfection every time.

Sam swung the bag over his shoulder, eyes now fully on his brother, "Dude you just gonna tickle that?" He gestured to the gun in his brother's hand. Dean rolled his eyes as he placed it in the bag, back together in one piece. In a flash the zip echoed out before coming to a halt at the end of its path. "Lets just get this crap outta the way," He then strolled past Sam to the door and mumbled under his breath, "I freaking hate Angel flying…"

Castiel glanced over his shoulder as Dean approached him in an unfriendly manner. He narrowed his eyes to see that Dean was starting to resent his angel friend. Sam also glanced at Dean but instead made eye contact with Castiel, in which the look of 'Don't ask' passed Sam's face. "Can we just go already? I'm getting itchy feet," And by that Dean meant he was getting weary of jumping around a la Castiel style.

Castiel raised his fingers to the brother's heads, ready, "I'm just glad were not going back in time…" The angel voiced his opinion to the brothers which actually surprised them both, but then again it was understandable considering last time he practically knocked himself out. In seconds fingers were pressed to foreheads, the boys silently reminding themselves to bend their knees when they landed.


	6. Doctor- Crashing

Doctor- Crashing

"Woooah!" The Doctor cried out as the engines threatened to phase on him. He reached over with gangly arms and flicked a few switches on the fair left panel before swing around to the right and tugged a lever. The Doctor was used to flying the ship alone; after all he had no choice in the matter.

His brow crinkled in confusion as he whipped around to the scanner, eyes suddenly widened in a panic as code red warnings flashed upon the screen. "No! No, no no!" He exclaimed, feet taking off once more towards the left side of the console. He slammed his hand against it, trying to stop the sparks flying only for the TARDIS to respond with a rather forceful swing in it's path. The Doctor stumbled back against the railing after failing to grab the console to hold himself up. He grumbled something under his breath before clambering back to the scanner and tapped in to see what the hell was going on.

"Storms?" He uttered, confused to why there were electrical storms within the vortex, "It has to be them... it has to be the angels fiddling with time..." He murmured before another jolt flung him into the console and knocking the wind from him, "Oof, bloody hell!" He huffed and straightened himself out and smoothed back his floppy fringe. "Come on sexy! It's just one trip! Please?"

The blue box was having none of it, she wanted to land now, not at the end of the line like he had planned. It was too dangerous plus something suggested disaster at the other end. The Doctor fought back and pushed her to her limits until she entered the time zone required. Thankfully the year '2013' began to flicker on the scanner screen and the Doctor couldn't help but grin to himself a little.

Right, back to the task at hand well so he thought. Everything went silent, not even the low hum of the machine he owned could be heard. He gulped and took a few steps back until he felt the odd uplifting feeling of gravity disappearing from the room. His eyes widened and lunged to latch himself onto the railing. A scream escaped his lips as his whole body lifted from the floor as the TARDIS. The box was free falling towards earth, the Doctor was trying so desperately to get to the controls, to be able to get the engines to kick in once more before it smashed into the ground and shattered with him inside it. The TARDIS was sturdy but this was ridiculous and testing boundaries.

His slender fingers reached over, a gasp escaping his lips as his fingers finally brushed against a lever, barely able to grasp it. With one daring leap he let go of the railing and pushed himself towards the console and slammed the lever upwards. He grinned like a mad man, the crazy sparkle in his eyes as the TARDIS slammed on it's engines, kicking into gear and hovered just over central London.

His body hit the deck, leaving him to lay there and sigh in relief before popping up and parking the TARDIS on a corner of a street. The signal he picked up was only a few roads over so this shouldn't be hard to sort out before he was on his way again right?

Oh how wrong was he?

He stepped out and head towards the church yard, unbeknown to him that five other men were heading to the exact same spot. A detective and his blogger, the hunting brothers and their angel and the Doctor, fate forcing them together.


End file.
